


Of Shakespeare and Anchovies

by naughtylemonade



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtylemonade/pseuds/naughtylemonade
Summary: Aziraphale unintentionally ignores Crowley for two weeks. Crowley finds a way in.





	Of Shakespeare and Anchovies

**Author's Note:**

> Just some pure unadulterated smut.

The backroom of Aziraphale’s bookstore had seen many comings and goings. Gabriel, Michael, other angels meeting him there, passing notes and “buying pornography”. Aziraphale loved to sit there on days, weeks when he would close shop and lose himself in a story. During these times, he would often have food delivered to him (mostly sushi). He knew he didn’t need to eat but God, he loved it so much. He was finding himself more and more in this room, reading a good book (sometimes The Good Book), eating his weight in raw fish and rice and seaweed. 

On one such occasion, Aziraphale decided to order a pizza, something different. With anchovies of course. He was in the middle of devouring Othello for the 76th time when a knock came at the front door. Walking to it and opening it, crisp £20 in hand, he was stunned to see a rather unusual deliveryperson.

“One anchovy and onion pizza? Good grief, Azzy, you sure do love your bad breath food don’t you?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, trying not to show just how happy he was. “I, I’m sorry I haven’t called lately, I’ve just been-”

“Holed up reading Shakespeare? I know. I could sense it.” Crowley smirked and pushed past him, following into the backroom. “How is it? Still depressing as ever?”

Aziraphale chuckled wryly. “Still one of the best plays ever written, in my humble opinion. What are you doing here?”

Crowley shrugged as he sat himself down (slithered, Aziraphale thought) in a big armchair across from the angel. “I was around. In this part of town. Thought I’d drop by.” Aziraphale could see through the act, watching Crowley lazily examine his own fingernails.

“Of course. It has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t called you in two weeks?” He smiled as he opened the pizza box and took a whiff. “Mm. Delightful.”

“Nah, nah, course not. I...I mean, I was half-tempted to go out and find myself a lovely little thing at one of the nightclubs to take home but I figured, well…” Crowley looked up at him over the edge of his sunglasses, his expression hard to read. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. “You wouldn’t...I mean, you would, but…” His voice trailed off, biting his lip a little. “Oh, Crowley, don’t make me-” 

Whatever he was going to say, Crowley had no time for it. He was suddenly in the angel’s lap, straddling a thick thigh, and Aziraphale’s breath was in his ear, and it was so much all at once. Crowley found himself kissing Aziraphale hard, savoring the taste of his beautiful, perfect mouth, thankfully free of onion and fish. 

Aziraphale moaned softly, the hot, wet feel of Crowley’s mouth on his making his wings twitch. They wanted to come out. Badly. So he allowed them. Bright, brilliant white wings filled the air behind him. Crowley looked up for a moment and smirked. “Oh...my favorite.”

Aziraphale nodded, a blush tinging his cheeks. “Mine too, dear.” He wrapped his wings around the both of them, enveloping them in a dim light. Crowley placed his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders, willing their clothes gone, showing both of their growing arousals. 

Aziraphale caught eyes with Crowley and let out a breathy sigh. “Are you...are you going to…” Crowley nodded and started to rock his hips back and forth, lube appearing on his cock. “Oh, Crowley…”

“Yes, Azzy?” Crowley tried to look as innocent as possible, mirroring the big eyes in front of him. 

“Oh, I hate it when you call me that.”

“No, you don’t,” Crowley whispered low into his ear, grinding down and harder against the warm, thick flesh beneath him. There was something so intoxicating about Aziraphale’s human form. Sturdy. That soft belly from all the human food he loved so much. His favorite part of his angel’s body, though, was this particular thigh. It was the perfect size, thick, hard, muscular from all the walking he did. 

Aziraphale let out a whimper, which brought Crowley out of his thoughts in time to notice the little quiver of his bottom lip, and his hand reaching for his own cock. Crowley smacked it away and grabbed him himself, stroking the angel to much acclaim.

“Cr-crowley…” Aziraphale’s head fell back, and Crowley took the opportunity to bite down gently at his neck, trailing kisses up and down. “Crow-” His breath hitched as he felt the sticky proof of just how aroused Crowley was on his thigh. “Oh…”

“See what you do to me, angel?” Crowley’s face was flushed, beads of sweat forming at the nape of his neck. “You make me want to cum over, and over, and-”

Aziraphale bucked into his hand at that. Fuck.

“Is that so?”

Oh. He had said that aloud. All he could do now was nod, the tension in his stomach lowering, building. The wet, hot sensation growing in his groin. “I’m so...I’m so close…”

Crowley growled, a low, demonic sound, and it shot through Aziraphale like a bolt of lightning. Their hips were moving at a rapid pace, Aziraphale thrusting hard into Crowley’s hand, undone by just how fucking good it all felt. 

Sooner than he wanted, he felt Crowley’s cum covering his thigh, heard the deep grunting that signaled it was a particularly good orgasm. Crowley’s hips bucked a few more times and suddenly he was met with those eyes, those eyes. 

“Please, Azzy, please cum for me,” Crowley was in his ear now, his forked tongue flicking out to lick sweat from his earlobe.

That was all it took.

Aziraphale was a babbling, incoherent mess as he came, the heat exploding from him in bursts and waves of absolute pleasure. His cum covered Crowley’s chest, and looking at it sent one more shiver down his spine. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, shaky. “Crowley…” It was all he could say. He said the name over again, like a prayer. Oh, he wasn’t supposed to think like that, but he couldn’t help himself.

They cleaned themselves up, Aziraphale’s wings retracting. Crowley put clothes on both of them again, thin and comfortable, so they could curl up on the loveseat across the room. Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s thigh, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You cursed.”

“I, surely I don’t know what you...fine, fine. Yes, I did. Are you going to tell on me?”

“Nah. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with the Big Woman Upstairs. Besides, I want you to keep doing it.”

“Keep cursing?”

Crowley took his hand and kissed the back of it gently. “I want you to keep having those beautiful, magnificent orgasms. No sense in tattling on us, now is there?”

“I suppose not, no.” Aziraphale’s face softened at the kiss. “Thank you.”

Crowley made a noise of faux disgust. “Don’t thank me, makes me sound like I did something Good.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

The pizza stayed where it had been, uneaten.


End file.
